


Elegance

by Arisusan



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:48:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5716561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arisusan/pseuds/Arisusan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot seems to think there is no dignity in death; Leo argues otherwise on a rainy day. An innocuous argument builds to an important decision, and an impact that lasts for more than a hundred years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elegance

**Author's Note:**

> This is not brilliant, but it's okay if you like lots of dialogue, I guess.

A huffing noise came from behind Leo, followed by some wordless grumbling.

"Who was it this time?" Leo asked dryly, "Ilo–"

" _Don't spoil the story!_ "

"That was a joke. Ilona's the horse, remember? Or are you just too _overcome_ with grief?"

Leo gave the last phrase the hint of a chuckle. Elliot had a bit of a tendency to get absorbed in the deaths of the Holy Knight's various companions and adversaries. Leo was by far the faster reader, so it was a constant challenge to tease Elliot about his pace without spoiling anything, though he wouldn't dare let anything so important as a _death_ slide. He'd been spoiled twice, and and that was two times too many.

"Anyhow, where are you?"

"Edgar."

Elliot's clipped reply signalled that at the moment, the conversation was taking a back seat to his wondering about the events of the book.

And very true, Edgar's death was the precipitating event for what was turning out to be the most convoluted plot line so far. Leo had a few speculations — Josephine was likely far more involved than she let on — but nothing solid.

"Ah."

Leo considered the possible implications of the death of Elliot's sometimes favourite, sometimes second-favourite character.

"It was quite elegantly written, don't you–"

"I don't see what's elegant about that _bastard_."

The words snapped between Elliot's teeth, and Leo turned to look over at him.

Elliot had leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and a scowl plastered across his face. He didn't have the most genteel of expressions, but Leo wondered what could have brought this on. Maybe the incident with the Lord Frederick, and whatever that uncle's name was. But that had been a while back, hadn't it?

"Do elaborate," Leo responded, trying to make his voice bright. It was better if Elliot got distracted. His moods could go on for hours, sometimes.

"Well, he goes and dies and he tells everyone to be happy. What kind of a stupid wish is that?"

"A noble one."

Elliot scoffed, and Leo hid a smile.

"Noble, my ass."

"Language."

Elliot's scowl deepened, and his fingers tapped a pattern on the cover of the book.

"Well, he's the one making them happy, right? If he didn't even bother saving himself than he's just bloody _useless_ ," Elliot finished bitterly.

Leo stood up, and dragged his chair around to face Elliot before adding another point. Elliot seemed not to either care or notice.

"But what if he couldn't save himself–"

"He could have _tried_."

"But because he didn't bother fighting, he chose how he died."

"Yeah, and it was the wrong choice."

"To die with dignity?"

"No, to die."

Leo shrugged.

"Well, what would you do?"

"I'd fight my way out."

There it was.

Elliot, as any human over the age of thirteen, had learned that the world was cruel. But unlike most who realized the same thing, he just took that as a challenge. If the world was going to get in his way, he was going to fight his way through.

If someone refused to talk to him, he'd just try again. And even though he made a fool of himself in the process, he kept fighting. Fighting his family, fighting the students, fighting him. Fighting fate.

Leo, from the beginning, had just gone along with everything. It wasn't worth putting up a fight. The best he could do was accept fate on his own terms.

"Well, sometimes you just can't do it."

Elliot shrugged.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

Maybe, one day, he'd be able to think the same way. Force the hand of karma.

"So, do you still like him?"

"Edgar? No way. How can you like a guy who did that? Just abandoned everyone?"

"To each their own. _I_ still think it was well-written."

"Yeah, well, fine."

Leo knew better to believe that. Hatred, after all, came somewhat from love. Loathing, now that was a different animal. But Vanessa and Ernest and Claude all hated him, and Elliot hated Edgar.

"Say, I think the rain's clearing up."

"You think?"

There were no windows in this reading room, to keep the books from growing mouldy.

"I can't really hear it anymore. Come on!"

Leo leapt to his feet, and grabbed Elliot by the wrist.

"Hey! What do you–"

Leo grinned. Typical.

"Just quit sulking and move it."

…

The clouds had mostly cleared, leaving a blue sky and bright sun to glint off of the wet grass and the vestiges of a sunshower. It looked like it was raining sunshine.

"We should head over to the armoury."

Now it was Elliot dragging Leo along.

"But I already practiced this week," Leo groaned. Physical activity was not his forte.

"Yeah, well, you still suck. How're you ever going to fight off my sister when you still think the sword's heavy?"

Elliot turned a sharp right, skidding on the wet grass, and Leo followed.

"Anyway, you're going to be able to protect yourself."

"You don't want me to end up like Edgar, or something?"

Leo meant it as a joke, but Elliot's stride broke for a second.

"Well…I'm not always going to be able protect you, you know?"

…

That brat…

But which one?

It was Oz that Elliot had seen, wide green eyes and bloodstains on his skin. He didn't deserve any more guilt.

He should survive. They all should survive.

But…not Oz, or Vincent.

He could never let him have the burden of a life.

Elliot Nightray's life was his own to keep, and throw away. Leo had nothing to do with it. Elliot Nightray had leapt in front of him.

In the reading room, before Humpty Dumpty haunted his steps, he'd decided that Leo would never have to go like this. Like Edgar had.

He'd go without a question, and give a few stylish last words, but he'd just accept it.

What a shitty, shitty brat.

After the reading room, in the middle of a sunshower, Elliot Nightray had decided that he would give his life for Leo, and would go fighting all the way.

So no, not Oz or Vincent. That would be giving up.

He could never burden Leo with the weight of his life.

…

And yet…

He thought for a moment, in his delirium, of Leo lying bloodied on the floor.

It was a relic of his nightmares, and all the more vivid now that some of them had come true.

And then he thought of Leo, slumped over in the corner, without a reason to live besides the words on flimsy sheets of paper. Who thought that an elegant suicide was better than a fighting death.

Oh, no…

Not him.

Not Leo.

Never.

Elliot Nightray had decided it was never.

The last thought in Elliot Nightray's head was of a grinning boy, and deep black eyes with the light of heaven in them.

And the last words that hissed out between his lips were the closest thing he could find to a declaration of that.

"Sorry… _Leo_."

…

A girl, of dark skin, dark hair, and darker eyes stopped in a bookstore, frozen solid.

She watched a boy — mid-teens, maybe — sitting in the fantasy section, scowling over a book.

For a moment, her expression froze. She nodded, and then her shoulders bent in, and she unconsciously unbound her hair from its tight ponytail.

She tapped the boy on the shoulder, and held out a tattered bookmark, work ragged like an artifact in a museum.

The boy looked up, into black eyes lit with gold.

"I think you forgot this."

…

A few minutes later, the boy tore through the crowds of a shopping mall, an odd expression with something of desperation, something of joy plastered across his face. Crowds scattered across the black and white tiles and plastic potted plants.

When he reached the girl, whose posture had straightened, he looked back into those eyes of black and gold.

"I…"

The girl's posture weakened again as the boy threw himself into her arms.

Only the two of them heard the rest of the sentence.


End file.
